Dinner
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: Booth, Brennan, Parker and dinner. BB, of course. Last chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers:** Meh. I still haven't caught up enough to actually spoil anything for anyone. Season four begins on Monday!!

**Disclaimer:** _Fan_fiction, people. Enough said.

**Author's Note:** Okay, partially based on my love of the internet, partially based on my love of Parker Booth, and partially based on my love for my baby brother and my dad who have the funniest conversations you've ever heard.

And I'm making this a chapter story, I think, just to force myself to write more. I'm being lazy lately, so… But Summer holidays in like three weeks, so I should be updated more again soon enough. But I'm gone for the whole of next week, so here's a chapter to keep you content.

* * *

Booth stared at the screen, dumbfounded.

"You found that on the _internet_?" he asked, amazed and disgusted at the same time. Parker grinned widely, but gave his dad a depreciating look.

"Duh, dad," he said, in true seven-year-old fashion. "_Everything's_ on the internet."

Booth looked to Brennan - who had recently appropriated herself in the doorway of her office – for help. She smiled. "Luddite," she teased, rolling her eyes. She briefly wondered why she was hesitating in the doorway of her own office.

As Parker spoke up, she remembered exactly why.

"What's that?" he asked, curiosity in his voice. Brennan had read somewhere, probably in Sweets' office, that four-year-olds ask something like four-hundred questions a day; she figured it was probably similar for seven-year-olds.

"It's someone who's afraid of technology, Parker," Brennan answered, not wanting to discourage the boy's inquisitiveness to save his father's ego. Parker, however, giggled at this revelation.

"Daddy's not a luggite; he's not afraid of anything!" the boy declared proudly. Brennan didn't bother correcting to boy as Booth's eyes bored angrily into hers. However, she did smile smugly.

"You know what else he's afraid of?" she teased. From his expression, Brennan could just about _feel_ the hissed 'Bones!' that would have been said at any other moment had his son hot been situated on his lap. Brennan took note.

"That's right, Parker," she lied, knowing Booth's mind was probably going wild with images of clowns. "Your dad's not afraid of anything." Parker grinned proudly before turning back to the computer. Booth looked thankfully at Brennan, who nodded only slightly, smiling a little.

Until she'd net Parker Booth, Brennan had never understood the way boys idolized their fathers. Now, it not only seemed clearer, but obvious. With a father like Seeley Booth, it was perfectly reasonable; expected. He most definitely was a good man.

Brennan knew Booth lived for his son; Parker was something that prompted him to be a better person. And for that, she thanked the little boy.

Still, she had no idea why on Earth they were sitting in her office in the middle of the day. When she asked them that, Booth just looked at her incredulously.

"'Middle of the day', Bones?" he queried smugly. Taking the bait, she took the watch out of the pocket of her lab coat and regarded it curiously. It was almost six PM. Brennan turned back to Booth and Parker unfazed.

"Oh, I guess I lost track of time," Brennan said lamely, debating whether or not to bother kicking them out before returning to work; she figured they'd probably leave eventually. Which brought her to another thought.

"Booth, why are you here?" she asked unceremoniously. Booth grinned at her and nudged Parker. Parker looked up from the screen.

"Because, Bones, we wanted to take you to dinner," Booth announced. "Isn't that right, Buddy?" He looked at the little boy expectantly and he nodded, curls bouncing. Brennan looked pointedly at Booth.

"I can't, Booth, I have to work," she said, though, to his surprise, there was no anger in her voice. Just impatience and a little reluctance.

"Please Doctor Bones?" Parker suddenly said. Brennan looked suspiciously at Booth, wondering whose idea the begging had been. By Booth's expression, it hadn't been his, but he wished it had.

"You and your dad can go, Parker," she explained to the boy, who shook his head furiously.

"Nu-uh. Dad said we aren't allowed to eat until you come with us," the boy protested, throwing his father a rather distasteful glance for a seven-year-old. Brennan raised her eyebrows and pointed at Booth.

"That's very unfair, Booth," she told him. "You can't starve the boy." Booth snorted.

"He's not going to starve, Bones," he said, rolling his eyes. "He eats about as much as you do, and he's about a third your size," he laughed, sounding rather proud. _Trust Booth_, Brennan thought, _to be proud of his son for eating so much_.

"Besides," Booth added, "It isn't my fault if he starves."

As Booth threw her a brilliant smile, Brennan rolled her eyes and picked up her coat.

* * *

"…and the grass went _everywhere_! So we had to dive away so we didn't get blown up, but the grass went _so_ far that it hit us anyway, and it stuck to me!" Parker finished his story with an heaved sigh and an emphatic arm gesture, nearly hitting the car door.

Booth's eyebrows shot up in amusement, while Brennan's furrowed in confusion. Booth spoke almost immediately. "And that's how you got grass stains on your knees," Booth concluded. Parker nodded, ecstatic that his father had bought his story. After all, it wasn't his fault that Captain Fantastic had given him white pants to wear to school on P.E. day.

"You don't really believe that?" Brennan tried to whisper. Booth rolled his eyes at her.

"No, Bones, of course not!" he said, whispering a little more successfully than his partner.

"Then why–"

"Just," he interrupted, "go with it." He held up a hand to silence her. She shrugged sulkily and folded her arms, but let it go all the same. Trying to change the subject to something that she knew other than death, Brennan turned to the excited face in the back seat.

"Do you have any homework, Parker?" she asked. Parker pulled a face.

"No," he said instantly.

"Are you fibbing to Bones?" Booth interjected. Brennan could see the grin that Parker missed.

"No," he said again. He looked back to Brennan with a concentrating frown. "Well, yes. But it's only little. And Mr. Giblin said I could do it in front of the TV," he tried.

This time, Booth turned a little in his seat, shooting his son a look. Parker frowned again.

"Well, he didn't, but it isn't very hard!" he tried again. Brennan looked between Booth and Parker. Neither seemed ready to give up.

"How about Booth – your dad," she corrected, "and I help you? Then you'll be done faster." Booth looked at her oddly.

That seemed like a totally strange concept to him. Though, whether he was shocked by the fact that she'd made the proposition, or by the proposition itself, he didn't know. Or maybe it was that niggling contentment at the back of his brain that made him wonder what the hell he was doing.

On auto-pilot, Booth pulled the car to a stop as Parker joyfully agreed to Brennan's – strange – proposition. Brennan looked out the window for the first time since they'd gotten in the car at the Jeffersonian.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I thought we were going to the diner," Brennan said. Booth grinned.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Bones," he said, using her so frequent words against her. Brennan's eyes narrowed as she looked up to where Booth's apartment was situated.

"As long as you have something other than pie," she agreed. Booth just laughed as he jumped out of the car.

* * *

Parker groaned in time with his stomach. "How much longer, daddy?" he asked longingly. Booth didn't even turn around.

"Not long, Parker. How are you two going?" Booth asked, smiling as the pans sizzled agreeably. Parker smiled.

"Doctor Bones is really smart! She knows how to do everything!" the boy decreed.

Brennan looked at Booth as if pleading. As much fun as Parker was having, he knew Brennan was still awkward as anything around the boy. Booth grinned at her, and answered his son's enthusiasm happily.

"Yeah, she is," he agreed, his eyes not leaving hers. She smiled at the compliment, tilting her head slightly as his expression didn't waver. Their smiles were matching as he turned back to the stovetop. Brennan, about ten feet away at the dinner table, turned back to Parker, who was currently struggling through triple-digit addition.

She was determined that by the end of the night Parker would be the top of his class; he ought to be, with her helping him. But she managed to reign in her overwhelming habit of impatience and allow him to do it mostly without her help. He was a very bright boy, she decided, though that wasn't unexpected considering who his father was.

Brennan leaned a little closer to Parker and picked up a pencil. Parker held up a finger in happy declination. "I don't need help with this one! I can do it myself," Parker told her, his face totally determined. Brennan smiled challengingly.

"Prove it," she joked. Just as Brennan was starting to worry abut the appropriateness of her remark, Parker grinned at her before whipping his head back to the paper in front of him and writing furiously. Brennan smiled to herself; maybe she wasn't going to scar the child for life.

* * *

"One more?" Parker begged. Booth looked accusingly at Brennan.

"What have you done to my son?" he demanded. Brennan frowned at him.

"I've not done anything! I simply showed him that once you understand something, it can be a lot easier to handle, and therefore less frightening," Brennan defended, trying to stare him down. It didn't work very well when all Booth could think about was how many other situations that could apply to. _Theirs_, for one…

"But he… he _wants_ to do math!" Booth said quietly but firmly, pulling his head back into reality. Brennan smiled widely at him. That wasn't helping his brain to keep grounded.

"Isn't that a good thing?" she asked sweetly. Booth didn't know how to respond, so he looked at Parker.

"One more sum, Buddy, then dinner," he told him before addressing Brennan again. "I do not want you turning my son into a squint, Bones," he warned, albeit a little more playfully. Brennan shrugged.

"You've put up with me for long enough; I'm sure you'd handle it," she said back, knowing she was right. Booth scoffed.

"Not the same thing," he argued back. Neither said anything, instead just stared at each other, half-smiles playing on their lips.

"Done!" Parker shrieked. "Is it right, Doctor Bones?" He shoved the piece of paper towards her excitedly. Brennan glanced at it for less than a second.

"Yes, Parker, this is correct," she said - almost proudly, Booth thought.

"Really?" he asked, turning his attention to his father, who was half way between glaring at Brennan and grinning at his son. "See, daddy? I got it right! This one was a hard one, too," he added. Booth smiled and ruffled his son's hair.

"Well done, Buddy, now clear up your stuff, and Bones," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "thank you."

* * *

Does it need another chapter?


	2. Chapter 2

**Spoilers:** Couch! Anyone who's read a few of my other stories will (hopefully) understand what couches mean. Couches always equal good things.

**Disclaimer:** Part of this conversation is dedicated to my dislike (abhorrence) for the new use of the word 'gay' (and the way it is just passed on to ignorant kids who don't know any better) and the fact that it is TasPride week.

**Author's Note:** Eh, screw sleep, I'd rather write. Ugh. Now I have to babysit. God, let me sleep! Why do people always need babysitters at the most inopportune times? And my throat hurts. A lot. Another wonderful bit of aftermath of a week of band camp.

* * *

Booth cast another glance at Brennan over the table, smiling when her eyes met his in a slightly worried expression. Booth smiled at her, but neither broke the eye contact. Parker had been talking nonstop since he'd put away his homework.

She couldn't remember ever talking so much when she was a child; it was hard to contemplate just how a seven-year-old could have so much to say. Of course, she listened intently to every word, the scientist in her compulsively logging and sorting everything Parker had said.

The less scientific part of her was simply glad that due to the boy's chatter, she didn't have to say more than a few words the entire time. While that was normally something Brennan wouldn't stand for, in such an unfamiliar situation, she was glad to sit back.

She hadn't had anything resembling a family dinner since she was fifteen. She'd had meals with her 'other kind of family', but nothing like this. A home-cooked meal, small table, totally mindless and meaningless talk, no death involved.

It was enlightening, but the whole situation had just seemed so… intimate. It was disconcerting to simply be with Booth without anything remotely work-related to discuss. Or, rather, not being _allowed_ to talk about anything work-related.

She knew that usually, this wouldn't stop her, but this was Parker; this was Booth's son. There was, somehow, a part of her brain that wouldn't let her bring up work, even though there were things she honestly wanted to discuss. They could wait. Parker would be in bed soon enough.

By the time Booth broke eye contact, Brennan's thoughts were back on Parker, who was calling to the two of them impatiently.

"Dad, Doctor Bones, are you listening to me?" he enquired with innocent exasperation. To Booth's enjoyment, Brennan took the question literally and answered the boy who had since shoved a piece of carrot into his mouth in frustration.

"No, Parker, sorry. That was rude of me," Brennan added, making Booth smile inwardly. She wasn't sure whether her absolute inability to multitask was a cause or effect of her genius. "Could you repeat what you said, please?"

Booth almost laughed; Brennan was speaking like a child who'd been told to be especially polite to their ageing, cranky grandparent.

Parker rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, but you have to listen this time," he asserted. As soon as he started speaking again, his voice was brighter. "Well, me and Harry and Liam were playing soccer and Liam kicked the ball too far, and it hit a fourth grader. And he came over and I thought he was going to punch Liam."

Here, Booth and Brennan both tensed slightly.

"But he just threw the ball at him and said, 'Gay first graders', and pushed Liam over then left," Parker finished. Booth looked warningly at his son.

"Parker," he said, his voice low. "What did I say about using that word?"

Parker looked guilty. "Sorry," he apologized shoving some more food into his mouth for protection from being told off.

"Which word?" Brennan whispered not-so-quietly. Booth hesitated, as if not wanting to repeat it.

"'Gay'," he said quietly, casting a careful glance at Parker who was still chewing avidly, and silently. Brennan looked perplexed.

"What's wrong with the word 'gay'?" she asked. "The vast majority of tests done show that sexual orientation is determined by the age of six; it isn't an uncommon occurrence for children to pick on other children based on their sexual orientation, either. Even adults do it. You and Sweets were a very good example of just that while I was with Jason.

"It's a way of asserting dominant status in society and especially an alpha male standing. By averring that you are the one who mates with females, you are essentially promoting yourself to a higher position in the evolutionary scale."

Now, Parker had stopped eating, opting for staring at Brennan with an open mouth and wide eyes. Booth looked pretty similar, but he looked a little offended.

"I do not! There was nothing anthropological about what Sweets and I were doing. It was just an observation," he defended.

"It was an observation, yes, but it was a conclusion wrongly based on social stereotypes and an anthropological need to assert your heterosexual status," Brennan argued back simply.

Booth couldn't believe he was having this conversation; Parker couldn't believe he had _started_ this conversation. Booth was all but glaring at Brennan. She was taking this too far, and entirely missing the point whilst doing so. Brennan, again, mistook his expression.

"Oh," she said softly. "You're dissatisfied that your son is homosexual." She nodded as if proud of herself that she had come to the conclusion without any prodding. Booth's eyes widened.

"My son is not gay, Bones!" Booth said a little too forcefully. Fortunately for the boy's mental health and self-image, Parker had no idea what on Earth his father and his partner were arguing about.

"I think this is what Sweets or Angela would call denial," Brennan said, being observant at just the wrong time as she was wont to do. Booth took a few deep breaths before answering. At least Brennan wasn't awkwardly silent anymore.

"No, I mean, he is not gay. No denial or ego involved," he promised. Brennan seemed to believe him, because her expression became less adamant and more considering.

"Then why did the boy at school call them 'gay'?" she asked slowly, a frown taking over her expression. Booth was incredibly relieved that this conversation was almost over.

"Because, Bones… they…" he hesitated, hating to actually say it. "It's slang. It means 'bad', like 'un-cool'," he struggled, almost wincing at his own words. It was one thing to 'observe' – or, as it may be, inadvertently assert mating status – but to use the word as an insult was not right. Especially for a child who didn't know any better.

Brennan now looked only more confused.

"Why would that be insulting?" Brennan asked. Booth could see she wasn't challenging him, she was just at a loss. This was something he liked about her; she was innocent at the strangest of times.

"Because when it's used that way, it doesn't mean 'homosexual' it means 'bad'," Booth stated patiently, really wanting her to understand, if only to get the conversation to end.

"Ooh." Brennan looked to Parker, who was still staring at the two adults, totally confused, and on the brink of absolute boredom. "Do you know what the word 'gay' means, Parker?"

Booth hissed her name in warning.

"What, he's going to find out eventually, and isn't he less likely to say it if he knows why he shouldn't?"

Booth couldn't argue with her logic, so he flapped a go-ahead-but-be-careful hand in her general direction. Brennan nodded subtly.

"It…" She paused, trying to find the right words to inform a seven-year-old. "It's when a boy… likes other boys." She felt rather proud of her word choice until Parker frowned.

"But I like other boys. Girls are gross; they're so _clean_," he said disgustedly. Booth had so smile at the irony of the boy's statement, but decided to let Brennan handle the rest of the conversation. After all, she'd started it.

Brennan thought for a second, knowing what Parker was saying, and recognizing that he didn't understand. That was something she'd learned from working with Booth; their facial expressions were strikingly similar.

"No, it's when a boy…" She paused and sighed, knowing she had to lie a little – she knew Booth wouldn't want him to get the reality of an adult relationship. "…_loves _another boy. Like… like your mum and Cap- Drew," she corrected, glancing at Booth to see if he was okay with her example. He winced slightly, but seemed mostly unaffected. When he saw her expression, he smiled and nodded at her encouragingly.

As horrible as he'd first thought it would be, this conversation hadn't gone too badly.

Parker considered this for a few seconds, a frown of concentration on his face. "Oh," was all he said on the topic before shrugging nonchalantly. "Dad, can I have some more, please?"

* * *

Brennan sighed as she sat down on the couch, coffee in hand. Dinner had been absolutely exhausting, despite the fact that she'd enjoyed it. Brennan would have to keep Booth's cooking skills away from Angela for fear of serious shoving. She couldn't quite figure out why Angela thought cooking was a special thing when it came to men.

Now, she was rather thankful that she was alone, almost wishing that she was home. But Booth was putting Parker to bed, so she had a few minutes to regain her composure and make sure she was herself. Whatever that tended to be these days.

Booth had had a considerable effect not so much on who she was, but on how she portrayed and perceived who she was. And this hadn't gone unnoticed by Brennan; it was both disconcerting and liberating.

As the thought occurred to her, she mentally chastised herself. There were very few moments when Brennan disliked being able to shut her brain off and just _be_: and this was one of them.

"Hey," came a voice, breaking her little bubble. Brennan looked up, though she knew who it was. Who else would it be? After all, she was in his house.

"What was all that about sexual orientation being determined by the age of six?" Booth asked as he sat down next to her. Brennan shrugged.

"Despite the fact that psychology is not a legitimate science, there are some incredibly interesting and informative studies being done." On seeing Booth's entertained and almost smug expression, Brennan continued. "There's nothing else to read in Sweets' waiting room."

Booth laughed. "True," he agreed, then casting a considering glance at her. "You could always have talked to me." It was a meek suggestion, really, as if he wished it had have happened. Brennan looked at him as if he were insane.

"I did! Every time we spoke in Sweets' office we wound up engaged in an argument," she reminded him rather forcefully. Booth chuckled at her.

"We usually do, Sweets' office or not," he pointed out. "And they're not arguments. Arguments are fists and yelling," he said, pumping a few miniature punches in the air. Brennan smiled back.

"And married couples," she said dryly. Booth laughed. It was an odd joke for Brennan of all people to make, but it was mostly true. And Booth had to let her know that it was just _mostly_ true.

"Not all marriages are unhappy, Bones," he said, the timbre in his voice shifting. She didn't say anything, but regarded Booth seriously before averting her eyes. Booth suddenly caught on. "Not all _families_ are unhappy, either," he said with a small smile.

Brennan returned the smile. "Yeah," she agreed softly. "I think you are Parker are probably the happiest family I've ever witnessed." Booth smiled, but stopped when he saw her expression.

"Temperance, you still have a family," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nodded. He didn't need to list all the things that had gone wrong: Zach, Angela and Hodgins, him 'dying', her parents, her brother…

What he was telling her was that she had a place with him, and her nod was an acceptance.

Letting go of her shoulder, Booth leaned back against the couch and sighed. Brennan leaned forward to set her empty mug on the table in front of them before leaning her elbows on her thighs. She cast a glance at Booth, trying to think of something so say, when she realized that he was already asleep.

Inwardly, she grinned and sighed with relief. Prying the mug gently from his hands, she regarded him in a moment of indecision before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, Booth," she said to his sleeping form. She was smiling as she left the apartment.

Booth smiled as he settled himself a little more comfortably on the couch.

"You're welcome, Bones."

* * *

Review? I'd love to hear feedback, because I'm not sure about how well this chapter works...

Remedies for colds will also be accepted with open arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spoilers:** Meh. Hehe, my dad just called me 'Little Miss Facetious'.

**Disclaimer:** Well, the first bit is a little insight to the never shown home-life of Seeley Booth. Well, my take on it, anyway… Really, what's the go with disclaimers?

**Author's Note: **Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee! I have this unwritten rule that I don't drink coffee while I have a cold (you know, diary not conducive to unblocked airways and all that), and now it's going away! Thank you to Leah, Bethany and BxBforever for suggesting ways to alleviate colds! I think the combination of all three has made me much better!

* * *

Booth rolled over in his bed, hearing a _thud_. While his subconscious registered that he didn't have to work today, the slightly-more-conscious part of him remembered Parker's presence in the adjoining room. Starting awake, he sat up abruptly; his head collided roughly with something, eliciting two more _thuds_. He opened his eyes.

A coffee table sat above him haughtily while something cold dripped on his forehead. He groaned. What the Hell was going on, and why was he on the floor?

The first thud suddenly seemed clearer: he'd fallen off the couch. Conclusion one: Parker was okay. Conclusion two: there was still something dripping on his forehead.

Sitting up a little more carefully, he pushed himself away from the coffee table with a firm hand, trying to figure out what was currently trailing through his hair. A mug stared at him, rim rather tastelessly lying against the table, leftover coffee dripping from a puddle on the table to the floor. Booth groaned. _Ew._

Realizing that it would stain the carpet, but equally worried about getting the cold coffee out of his hair, he grabbed the empty mug sitting next to it, and placed it on the floor under the drip, frat-boy style. Smiling to himself, he suddenly remembered why there was another mug on the coffee table. His cheek all but tingled as he made for the shower.

* * *

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Booth padded out of the bathroom, all traces of coffee gone from his hair, and feeling almost completely awake. When he didn't hear the television, he poked his head into Parker's room; the boy was still asleep. While thankful, Booth was surprised. They weren't supposed to sleep in like this until puberty.

Then again, he thought as he wandered into the kitchen, his partner could be exceptionally tiring.

After starting the coffee maker, he wandered back into the lounge room, cloth in hand. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of that. He briefly considered washing the two mugs, but decided to leave them in the kitchen sink for good measure. Despite being a father and an FBI agent, there were still more of those frat-boy instincts that led him sometimes. Like walking around in a towel and shirking the washing.

He was somewhat glad he didn't have a dishwasher; with his habit of leaving the washing-up until the sink was justifiably full, he had a feeling he'd run out of kitchenware pretty frequently. Dishwashers were considerably larger than his sink. Realizing that he had just spent the past four minutes standing half-naked in his kitchen thinking about the benefits of sinks, he turned to the coffee maker, shaking his head.

As he poured the tempting liquid into a clean mug – the one thing he had enough of – he wished Parker would wake up. Feeling slightly pathetic, he realized that he was incredibly bored. As good a companion as coffee could be, he was just so used to being occupied. If he wasn't at work, he was with Brennan, having lunch or finalizing paperwork. His weekends were usually spent sleeping of the past week. If, in fact, he was lucky enough to _have_ a weekend.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Booth heard another _thud_. Pretty sure that he hadn't fallen off the couch again, Booth moved to open the door. Surprised to see Brennan standing in front of him, he suddenly realized that he was still in a towel. Cursing his idiocy, he cleared his throat and moved aside to let her in.

Brennan was quite obviously trying to contain a smile. "I see you have a towel this time," she deadpanned. Booth just about choked. Very few women could seem so aggravating and so innocent at the same time. His only qualm was that she _wasn't_ innocent. She knew very well what she was doing – she always did – she just didn't quite know the extent of the effect it had.

Prompted only in part by Brennan's comment, Booth was suddenly even more conscious of the towel. Just as Booth had decided that giving as good as he got was the best way to deal with Brennan's oddly humorous mood, an excited exclamation sounded down the hallway.

"Doctor Bones!" Booth and Brennan turned to see a ruffled blond head bobbing eagerly down the short hall. Brennan smiled, slightly off put by the reception.

"Hi, Parker," she said, trying to equal his excitement level but failing miserably. While Parker didn't seem to notice, Booth smiled to himself. It wasn't her fault; no one should be that loud or that awake this early in the morning. But Booth knew better. Not only was Parker a ball of energy at the best of times, but he also adored his daddy's partner. And with that, Booth could commiserate.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts for the fourth time that morning, he found himself in an awkward silence. Parker's face was somewhere between a grin and a frown, and Brennan sported the expression she had whenever she said something then suddenly realized she shouldn't have. Her lips were pursed, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes straying.

The silence was broken by Parker. "Did Doctor Bones sleep over?" he asked curiously. Brennan suddenly became defensive, forgetting that she was addressing a seven-year-old.

"No, what would prompt you to make that assumption?" she asked. Booth rolled his eyes, ready to step in, while Parker stared, confused.

"Well, once, Capt-" Parker glanced at Booth, "-Drew was in a towel, and mommy said it was because they had a sleep-over, like me and Liam do."

Booth made a mental note to have words with Rebecca about this revelation while Brennan's mind flashed to the conversation they'd had the night before, and Booth's adamant argument that his son was not gay. Before she could voice her misunderstanding, however, Booth placed a quieting hand on her shoulder.

"No, Buddy, Bones slept at her own house last night. She just came over to, uh…" he muttered, suddenly realizing he had no idea why she was there. He cast a glance at her, asking for help.

"For breakfast," she lied slowly, not wanting to say _because your father has some paperwork that I need to complete_. She knew Booth wouldn't like that explanation. Besides, if he made breakfast anything like he made dinner, she was happy. Curiosity gone, Parker was excited again.

"Really? Dad makes the _best_ pancakes, and French toast, and hot chocolate, and-"

"Okay, Buddy," Booth interrupted quickly, though his face was plastered with a grin. "Why don't you go set the table and get dressed?" Parker just grinned and sped back down the hall, presumably to his room. Booth and Brennan turned to face each other again. The almost-veiled smile was back.

"You may want to consider getting dressed, too."

* * *

Parker bounced in his seat, excited beyond belief, but sure that if he got up now, his father would withhold the pancakes he was very desperately craving. Brennan looked on with slight shock as the child wriggled like a junkie in withdrawal; she inwardly wondered whether the boy was okay. She wished Booth would come out of the kitchen already. Though she could see him from the place he had – rather firmly – allocated her, his back was to her and Parker.

If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that Booth was deliberately leaving them alone together. She wouldn't really put it past him, though she had a feeling Booth wouldn't leave her alone with his child, for _his_ sake, not hers. The math homework was bad enough; he didn't want Squint-rants coming from his son.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, Booth turned his head and flicked his eyes meaningfully between her and Parker. The 'deliberate' possibility was suddenly becoming more and more plausible. Groaning inwardly, she acquiesced.

"So…" she started, drawing out the word. Parker stopped jigging momentarily to look at her. "What are you and Boo – your dad doing today?"

Booth snorted at her awkward question from his position at the stove. Brennan ignored him.

"Dad said we're going to the park to practice football!" he said excitedly. Brennan couldn't tell whether Parker was specifically excited about football, or simply about everything. Brennan was saved from making further small-talk with the boy when Booth's voice boomed from the kitchen.

"Heads up!"

Brennan turned, shocked, only to see a pancake hurtling towards her. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed at it, her hand colliding with Parker's, the pancake between them. She glared at Booth for a few seconds before letting go of the makeshift Frisbee. Parker quickly began shoveling it into his mouth with an impressive voracity.

As Booth made his way to the table, a stack of pancakes in tow, a grin still plastered on his face, Brennan pulled an impressed face.

"He has amazing reflexes, Booth," she said in slight awe. Booth's grin widened impossibly while Parker remained unaffected by everything but the growing pile of pancakes on his plate.

"Good genes, eh, Buddy?" he explained, winking at Parker. Parker giggled and nodded vigorously. Brennan was quite sure that he didn't need any more carbohydrates. Especially if he proceeded to top them all with as much syrup as he had the last two.

Booth pushed a plate of pancakes towards her insistently. He was mostly over this morning's… debacle, though he was still trying not to think about it too much. If not for Parker, that situation could have become the defining embarrassing moment of his life. And Booth wasn't much into defining moments.

Or embarrassment.

"No, thank you," Brennan said politely, shaking her head. Booth looked offended. "I'm happy with my coffee," Brennan defended, her voice changing both decibels and octaves. Booth frowned as she imagined he probably would have had Parker been the one not eating. Looking at the boy, she wondered if he ever had actually had to do that. As Parker finished his third pancake in about as many minutes, she supposed not.

"You have to eat, Bones," he insisted. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Come on," he urged. "I know you want one."

Brennan's expression matched his, now, as they both struggled for dominance and against amusement. Booth speared an unsuspecting piece of pancake and offered it to her. His smile was the first to break, spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, fork directed at her mouth.

Brennan couldn't help but smile back, now, having won the struggle, and took the fork from his hand. Booth couldn't help the inkling of disappointment that she'd taken the fork away from him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. After all, he'd become quite adept at doing so.

Grabbing his own plate, he imitated Parker's earlier enthusiasm, making Brennan laugh quietly. Booth and Parker looked up for an explanation as to what joke it was they were missing out on.

"You two are… very much alike," she explained. Parker and his father sent her identical grins.

* * *

Booth sighed as he looked at his sink. He'd have to do the washing now. He'd never thought it could literally happen – definitely not in his house – but plates were spilling onto the bench top. It was almost comical at first, like a scene from a cartoon.

Until he realized that he had to wash them.

On hearing his sigh, Brennan smiled. "Would you like some help with that?" she asked, gesturing at the sink. Booth debated between playing gentleman and refusing, and being honest and accepting. Knowing her probable reaction to his chivalry, and that he really couldn't be bothered washing them on his own, he nodded.

"Sure," was all he said before she was standing at his side. As they waited for the sink to fill, Brennan spoke.

"You really are a wonderful father, Booth," she said. He was sure he heard consideration in her voice, as if she were truly thinking about what she was saying. He didn't know if he should be happy about that or not. It wasn't like she hadn't said it to him before, but then, it was partially because she was emotional. Booth knew that people tended to speak more sentimentally when they were vulnerable, even his stalwart partner.

Especially her, really. It wasn't often she let her guard down, so when she did…

"He obviously loves it here," she continued, turning off the tap and tossing some dishes into the water. Booth fleetingly wondered if she'd been talking this whole time. He smiled at her comment.

"Thanks, Bones. I…" He paused, not sure whether he really wanted to tell her this. One look at her told him he wanted nothing more. Another told him that he could probably think of at least _one_ thing he wanted more.

He mentally shook himself. Definitely not the time. "I miss him," he finished, a little more emotionally than he had originally planned. Brennan tended to have that effect on him. She only nodded in response, though; the answer evident in her eyes as a sympathetic smile graced her face.

For a few minutes, all that could be heard was dishes _clinking_, and the sound of Parker feigning explosions with Hot Rods in another room. Glancing at his partner, Booth made up his mind. Putting down his dish towel, he hooked a finger under Brennan's chin, turning her to face him.

Her frown told him that she was wary, though he knew that what he intended on doing was the last thing on her mind. Hell, until ten seconds ago, it was the last thing on _his_ mind.

As he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, he had to admit that maybe it hadn't been the _last_ thing on his mind. Ironically enough, now it was the only thing. He stopped thinking anything the moment Brennan's hands moved to his chest as she stepped that little bit closer.

"Gross!"

Booth and Brennan snapped apart as if spring-loaded. Parker, the cause of their alarm, rolled his eyes in disgust and something akin to exasperation and began pouring himself a glass of milk.

_Awkward_.

That was the only word that hit Booth as Parker did so. He glanced at Brennan, who at least looked as embarrassed and confused as he felt. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and she appeared to be thinking incredibly hard about something. Probably, Booth thought, all the ways in which she could kill him without making a mess.

Recovered, Parker looked at his dad. "Are we going soon?" he asked patiently – almost boredly - as if he were addressing a child who was throwing a fit. Booth smiled at his son.

"Yeah, Buddy, we'll get going as soon as Bones and I have finished the dishes," he promised. The boy rolled his eyes and sighed as if to say _if you continue to do the dishes that way, we'll _never_ leave_. When did his son get so perceptive?

By the time Booth turned back around, Brennan was placing the last of the dishes on the bench to dry. She didn't look up as she spoke.

"I should go."

With that, Booth suddenly felt the urge to cry. He quickly recovered, however, and followed her as she made for the door.

"Bones! Wait-" he tried, grabbing her shoulder gently, but firmly enough to keep her in place. When she made eye contact, he shoved down the impulse to kiss her again. That would _really_ help the situation. When she finally spoke, her voice was resolute, but soft.

"Booth, you've got Parker this weekend. Go be with your son," she told him. He frowned a little, trying to tell what she was thinking; whether or not she was blowing him off. He decided on one last attempt.

"Bones, we need to talk," he said, relying on his eyes to tell her exactly what he meant. She seemed to understand, though she didn't acknowledge his request.

"The, uh, Lowe case files… I need them…" she said. Booth couldn't help the smile that flicked the corners of his mouth. Obviously this would take time, but the fact that she was talking to him was more than he really expected. He suddenly felt guilty for that thought as he moved off to find the files. He really should have more faith in her.

Despite that thought, he was still vaguely surprised to see her still there when he returned with the files. Handing them to her, he opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. He settled for a smile, which she returned. Booth could tell it was genuine, and more of the earlier anxiety lifted.

About half way down the hallway to the elevator, Brennan stopped and turned around, only vaguely surprised to see Booth standing in his doorway, watching her.

"Thanks for breakfast, Booth," she said before continuing her trip down the hall. Booth shut the door with a sigh. That could have gone a hell of a lot worse. As he mulled over what exactly had just happened with a fait smile, Parker came bounding into the room.

Booth grinned as he swooped his son off the floor, making them both laugh. "Ready to go, Buddy?" he asked excitedly. The boy nodded so vigorously that Booth almost lost his grip, making him laugh harder.

"Daddy, did Doctor Bones leave?" he asked, his patience obviously wearing thin. Booth was somewhat surprised he'd waited this long. Booth nodded. "What's_ she_ doing today?" he asked, suddenly curious. Booth could swear he saw a little disappointment in his son's eyes. He smiled at that.

"Compartmentalizing," he said more to himself than to the excited boy in his arms. Parker frowned, but his dad just smiled. "Come on!" he said animatedly before Parker could ask any more questions. Parker squirmed in his father's grip, running before his feet even hit the floor.

Within seconds, he sped out of his bedroom. "Heads up!" he shouted, launching the ball down the hall to his father, who caught the ball, and then the boy, carrying one under each arm. One shrieked as they made their way down the corridor to the elevator, reaching for the ball.

Booth held the ball above his head teasingly, as Parker leaped as best he could in his current situation, falling limp with laughter and exhaustion after a few attempts. Laughing, and placing his son upright, Booth kissed his hair.

"I love you, Buddy," he said sincerely. Parker grinned as he looked at his father.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

* * *

Okay, I just had to end it like this. They're so cute.

This is the last chapter, so please review?

Love!


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